


It's Always There

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Good Enough [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Post 2010-2011 NHL Season, Pre-Relationship, Tourette's Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 07:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18361049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: Bergy is silent for a long time when Brad finishes telling this part of the story. Finally, he says something sadly predictable. “I’m sorry, Brad.”“Everyone’s always sorry. I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to be my friend, Bergy.”[For anyone scared to read this because they think Tourette's is some horrible disease, it's not. It's commonly portrayed in media as the behavior disorder that makes you scream swear words at people no matter how inaccurate that really is.]





	It's Always There

Brad’s in Halifax with his family for the summer when Bergy calls and asks about it.

 

_He’s going to lose another tooth - it’s wiggling around in there, and he’s excited because this time he’s going to tie it to the door and slam it shut. That’s all he thinks about when he’s at school, poking the tooth with his tongue, making it move._

_And then he picks up his book and throws it on the floor._

_Bradley’s not sure what makes him do it. His arms move without asking him first, and then his teacher comes over. She asks him why he did it. He doesn’t know. He just picks it up and puts it back on his table, where it’s supposed to be._

 

“Is it always like that?”

“Not really. I don’t always notice until people tell me to stop snapping my fingers and shit.”

 

_His mom takes him to the doctor when he won’t stop banging his hands on the table. Everyone first asked him to stop, then told him to stop, until finally he was crying and couldn’t make himself not do it. The doctor talks to his mom, then asks him some things, and then talks to his mom some more._

_He goes to another doctor the next week, a different kind of doctor. This doctor doesn’t wear a white coat; he sits in one of those fun spinny chairs with the wheels on it and has stuffed animals and blocks in his room. Bradley hears a pop-noise and then finds out he’s the one making that noise with his mouth._

_The new doctor talks to him for a long time. Does he sometimes do things but not know it? Can he talk about it a little? What does it feel like when he does these things? Does it happen all the time, or just sometimes?_

_Bradley is about to turn seven years old. He likes ninja turtles and there’s a hole in his mouth where a tooth fell out. He plays peewee hockey on ponds in the winter. And he has a disease, a “syndrome.” He can’t just be like everyone else, because everyone else can sit still._

 

“I told my friends about it after. That turned out to be a fucking bad idea, too. Every time I made a noise or did something in class they’d start copying me, and that just made me do it more. The teachers were always mad at all of us. Especially me.”

“But it’s not your fault.”

“They didn’t know that.”

 

_Brad hates this, so much. It’s always there, of course it’s always there, fucking Tourette’s Syndrome. He stomps one foot when he walks sometimes and throws himself off balance, he kicks his heels against the legs of his chair in class until the teacher punishes him for being a “disruption,” he still sometimes knocks all his stuff off his desk without warning._

_Today is the first day it affects him during hockey._

_His right arm moves, whacking the blade into the ice to hard that his stick snaps in half. This is bad for all kinds of reasons, partly because his mom’s going to be pissed that she has to buy him a new one and also because now coach is giving him The Look. Brad always gets The Look from everyone the first time they see him tic. It’s never happened during hockey before. Hockey used to be safe for him, he didn’t have to tic while he was on the ice, but now… now even hockey’s not free._

_He’s sent to the bench and has to sit out the rest of practice because he has no stick, and coach pulls him aside to talk to him after. It’s the same questions he always gets the first time, when people don’t know what they’re dealing with - is he okay, why did he do this?_

_Brad forgets what he’s about to say. Maybe it’s “I have Tourette’s” or “I don’t know” or “I’m sorry coach.” That’s not what he says. He gets stuck: “I-I-I-I-I…”_

_Brad is fifteen when hockey stops being safe._

 

Bergy is silent for a long time when Brad finishes telling this part of the story. Finally, he says something sadly predictable. “I’m sorry, Brad.”

“Everyone’s always sorry. I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to be my friend, Bergy.”

“Yeah, I guess you probably hear that a lot from people.”

“Not really, I don’t usually talk about this shit. Just, like… don’t be sorry about this anymore, okay? I don’t want to hear you be sorry.”

“Okay. I’ll try not to say it again.”

 

_He’s not in high school anymore, so his tics are a lot less frequent than they used to be. That doesn’t mean he’s stopped having them at all, though, because today he’s going home from practice with a black eye after turning to one of his Providence teammates and saying “I hate you.” He didn’t mean it, he never means it, but… you can’t get away with shit like that as an adult. If he does this shit too much he’ll never make it to the NHL._

 

“When was that?”

“2007, I think. It doesn’t matter. I was only there for three seasons.”

Bergy sighs from the other end. “Does it bother you…? When other teams and other teams’ fans make fun of you for all your penalties and everything?”

“Not as much anymore. A little sometimes, I guess. Why?”

“Because I think it’s going to bother _me_ now, when they’re booing you and hating on you for something you can’t even stop.”

Brad grins, even though his friend can’t see it. “You don’t have to get mad about it, Bergy, but thanks.”

There’s a short pause. “…remember I’ll always laugh with you, Marchy.”

“I know. Thanks, man.”


End file.
